


a story about nothing

by thearcherballet



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, Slice of Life, mention of diseased characters (lupin and hedwig), there's a cat named Billi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-06-06 14:21:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 935
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15196637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thearcherballet/pseuds/thearcherballet
Summary: Harry James Potter comes home from work to find a cat sitting on his front stoop. There's nothing else that happens.





	a story about nothing

**Author's Note:**

> this is, quite literally, the most self-indulgent little drabble/fic i've ever written... and i've written some REALLY SELF-INDULGENT FICS. anyway. this is just about harry james potter having a normal night. i wanted to give him some space for him to grieve and grow into himself without the world really asking him to be someone or something else. this was sort of inspired by this post on tumblr: http://marauders4evr.tumblr.com/post/175528443977/harry-isnt-quite-out-of-his-teens-when-it-fully . except i focused on harry just. living life. being an exhausted 18-19 year old. so enjoy!

The night the cat appeared on his front door stoop, Harry had just finished a six-hour shift at the pub. It was two in the morning, his clothes smelled of vodka, yet the cat sat there looking at him with all the interest in the world.

The cat was probably wondering why he was out so late, or maybe it thought Harry was out too early. Cats are nocturnal, he reminded himself, though the voice in his head sounded like that of a friend…It was still dark, only a yellowing streetlamp and the light he left on before he’d left for work to illuminate them.

Harry didn’t bother talking to the cat, never really understanding the impulse to talking to cats if they’ll only meow back at you. He distantly remembered he used to tell things to his owl, once upon a time. Harry looked at the bag of leftover chips he brought back from the pub, electing to sit on his stoop right next to the cat. He unmade the knot on the plastic bag, its crinkles barely spooking the black and white cat. Harry dumped a couple of chips in front of the cat, not wanting to risk dumping half of them only for the cat to turn its nose on them. 

The cat smelled the offering, its little black nose flaring up and down. After, deeming the smell acceptable, the cat licked one of the chips, right before scarfing the entire thing down. Harry didn’t want to name a stray cat, but if he were to name it, he’d mentally name it Billi. Harry pat Billi on its head and stretched his aching legs. 

He thought it’d be fine if he started eating outside instead of inside with just the sound of the telly playing in the background for company. For every two greasy, salty chips he ate, he gave one to Billi. If he forgot to give one to the cat, Billi would lay a paw on his elbow. 

You couldn’t see many stars in the middle of London, but he entertained himself trying to identify the constellations and planets he could see. His chest ached at the sight of the full moon, making him clench his fists. Billi nudged his elbow, breaking him from his trance. Harry gave Billi the remaining chip, swiping his hands on his jeans; they were already soiled from the vodka spillage anyway.

Some drunk uni students had barged into the pub to celebrate their final exams or something. They kept asking for vodka shots, which he’d poured while grimacing. That was, until a broad white guy threw back his shot… directly onto Harry, missing his mouth by an entire half meter. Luckily, Lucille proceeded to kick them out, which was fantastic to watch from behind the bar as the students filed out drunkenly singing along to Backstreet Boys’ I Want It That Way.

Billi chittered at Harry, rubbing its head against Harry’s side. Harry sighed, acknowledging the cat by patting its head before getting up with a soft grunt. He took his keys out of his pockets, the key rings sparse except for the keychain with Lucille’s Pub’s logo dangling from it. Harry’d swiped the little keychain from Lucille’s office without her knowledge, so he usually never pulled his keys out in front of her.

Billi didn’t really make for the door when Harry opened the door, choosing instead to lay down right where Harry’d found him. Harry closed the door behind him, leaving his work shoes by the door. He cracked his toes against the floor, the sound of it instantly making him feel at ease as he walked through his flat, careful not to slip in his socks.

Harry threw the empty box of chips in the kitchen bin on his way to the bedroom. He rummaged through his dresser, taking the first boxers he found to the bathroom. Without bothering to close the bathroom, he undressed, taking off the newsboy cap he usually wore for work and placing it on the sink next to his eyeglasses. He tossed his clothes in the hamper, which was almost full already. Harry quickly glanced at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, not really wanting to look at the exhaustion rimming his green eyes closely.

The shower turned hot quick, and he had to shimmy the handle a bit to get it to a comfortable temperature before getting under the spray. Harry didn’t even have enough energy to have a quick wank, which was the one of the only perks of living alone. Instead, he preferred to lay his head against the shower wall for a moment, letting the spray massage the knots on his shoulders away.

Once he was done, he dried off, hanging the towel on the shower curtain bar. Harry put on his boxers, noting it was one of the few without holes in them. He hadn’t been keen on wearing full pajamas to bed since he moved into that flat, realizing after a few shifts at the pub that it just turned into an extra step he didn’t have time for.

Harry turned the standing fan by the bed on to its highest setting, the whir of it immediately flipping a switch in his brain off. He slid into bed, the sheets still smelling fresh even after five days since washing them thanks to a charm he’d found in a book Hermione had given him a year back. 

A distant cry outside had him thinking perhaps he should buy some flea shampoo for cats. In the morning though. He had time. 

**Author's Note:**

> if u want more stories of this vein for harry, let me know! i'm on tumblr @thearcherballet so hmu if you're into just... chill stories about harry james potter.  
> thank u to janna, kerri, and manda (fiona's with us in spirit. she's not dead, she just hasn't read this yet bc she's away.). and ofc to alicia <3


End file.
